


Satisfactory Manner

by triste



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Genderswap, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, UST, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think about bacteria when you kiss people?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theme #6: Fluff

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #6: Fluff

~~

“Cooking,” Midorima declares, making a rather dramatic show out of tying his apron strings, “is a science. If it’s not exact, then you’re not doing it right.”

Kuroko doesn’t point out that all they’re doing is baking a cake for Home Economics class. Midorima’s obsessive-compulsive switch has already been flipped. Besides, he’s a good person to be paired with. All Kuroko has to do is hand over ingredients, and Midorima sees to the rest.

It’s actually kind of interesting to watch Midorima at work, making sure his measurements are precise, only satisfied when he’s doubled checked them at least twice. Regrettablyly for Kuroko, however, Midorima isn’t willing to let him have an easy grade for doing next to no work. 

“Beat the eggs, Kuroko,” he orders (no ‘please’, of course), “but do so in a satisfactory manner.”

“Yes, Midorima-kun.”

Kuroko isn’t sure what qualifies as satisfactory in Midorima’s book, but it’s a job that he can mange, at least, since creating meals out of eggs is the only thing he’s good at in the kitchen.

Displaying the contents of his bowl for Midorima to judge once he’s finished, Kuroko waits to find out whether they’ll meet his high standards.

“Good enough,” Midorima says, and it’s about the closest he ever comes to praise where Kuroko is involved.

He’s very careful when he adds the eggs to the butter and sugar he’s already creamed, mixing them together before adding the flour, and he works slowly but steadily, refusing to get a mess on their gleaming table top (which is the cleanest out of the whole class). Then again, Midorima has always disliked dirt, which is why his expression turns to one of intense distaste when he accidentally gets some of the cake mixture on his index finger.

Before he can rush to the sink and wash his hands three times in total (Midorima can be very particular about these things), Kuroko takes hold of his wrist and guides the offending finger to his lips, closing them around it gently, and sucks.

“It tastes very nice,” he says.

Midorima gapes at Kuroko like he’s just grown an extra head, and his face goes an intriguing shade of scarlet. “What on earth are you doing?” he stutters.

“Cleaning your finger,” Kuroko replies, all innocence.

“Fool! Do you know how much bacteria the human mouth can harbour?” Shuddering, Midorima reaches for his bag with his uncontaminated hand. “Fortunately, today’s lucky item is oral disinfectant. Once again, my horoscope has served me well.”

“Midorima-kun,” says Kuroko, curious, “do you think about bacteria when you kiss people?”

The disinfectant drops to the floor with a clatter, and Midorima gawks for the second time, trying and failing to speak.

Still shell-shocked and having lost all of his usefulness, Kuroko takes over from Midorima and finishes making the rest of the cake.


	2. Theme #1: Angst

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #1: Angst 

~~

“I’m sorry,” Midorima says, “but I have to put an end to our relationship.”

Kuroko, to his credit, doesn’t get emotional, doesn’t cry or fly into hysterics, which is one of the things Midorima has always appreciated about him. Instead, he merely says, voice calm and steady, “May I ask why?”

It’s a reasonable question, and Midorima feels bound by duty to answer. Kuroko deserves this much, at least, deserves more, if Midorima is honest with himself, because even he can admit that he’s been very fortunate to have been involved with someone like Kuroko, while Kuroko, on the other hand, could – and should – have done much better than to choose someone like Midorima.

Equally controlled and restrained, Midorima begins his explanation.

As Kuroko is aware, he’s only just qualified as a junior doctor after six long years in medical school, six years that Kuroko has spent by his side in quiet companionship, never pushing Midorima for anything more, never demanding commitment. It’s not love, this connection that they share, and it doesn’t burn bright with passion, but it’s based on mutual respect and admiration, which Midorima still feels as strongly now as he did back then, when the two of them were so much younger and more free spirited, when it felt like they could take on the world together and win.

Things are very different these days, however, and while Midorima’s parents have always displayed awareness regarding his flight of fancy, as they term his association with Kuroko, they’re no longer willing to allow him any further youthful indulgences. 

He’s never kept their relationship a secret and his parents have never commented on it until now, never requested to meet Kuroko for themselves, never invited him over for holidays or celebrations, making it quite clear that, although they tolerate Midorima’s choice of partner, they refuse to welcome or acknowledge him, and Kuroko has never minded that, never once complained about it.

In Midorima’s pocket lies a photo of the girl his parents plan on introducing him to. She’s smart and pretty, and painfully average compared to Kuroko, but they insist she’ll be a good match for him, and more importantly, that she’ll make a good wife.

He needs to marry a nice woman into the family and think about having children, they say, all the things Kuroko couldn’t give him even if he wanted to, talking about their relationship like it’s as sterile as the scalpels Midorima has grown so familiar with handling.

This is their fate, and Midorima accepts it. They were incompatible from the start, and now it’s clear they’re simply not meant to be.

“And that’s how it is,” he concludes, ignoring the insistent tugging sensation deep in his gut when Kuroko’s composure finally cracks.

Kuroko’s lips tighten into a thin white line, the same lips that Midorima has kissed a thousand times, knows the tastes of them as well as he knows his own name, and he looks lost for a moment, but then he takes in a slow, deep breath.

“I understand, Midorima-kun.”

Not Shintarou anymore. He’s back to using formality as a weapon, surrendering the intimacy of given names, reverts to honorifics Midorima hasn’t heard in years. It’s Kuroko’s way of protecting himself, of putting distance between them, and there’s an ache of displeasure in Midorima’s chest at the way Kuroko extracts himself from his life as uneventfully as he entered it.

“I suppose this is goodbye,” Midorima says, adjusting his glasses, a habit he’s never quite managed to grow out of.

“Yes,” Kuroko agrees. “I suppose it is.”

There’s a moment of awkwardness that Kuroko is the first to break, leaning up on his tiptoes and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Midorima’s cheek. 

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” he says.

“Maybe,” Midorima replies.

But they both know it’s not true. Their parting will be permanent, and that’s what makes it all the more painful.


	3. Theme #7: Humour

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #7: Humour

~~

The whole thing is Aomine’s idea, naturally, but Kuroko isn’t entirely blameless, seeing as how he’s the one who goes along with it. 

It’ll be funny, Aomine promises, hilarious even.

Although Kuroko wonders if they’re taking their little joke a little too far, he agrees to do as Aomine says because, well, if he’s honest with himself, he also wants to find out how Midorima will react.

It’s not what Kuroko expects.

The first part is as planned, where he approaches Midorima on his way to the library, a book tucked under his arm that Kuroko assumes he’s intending to return.

“Midorima-kun,” he says, giving his sleeve a small tug.

“What is it, Kuroko?” Impatient, and obviously annoyed over having been prevented from reaching his destination, Midorima frowns, but then his expression turns to surprise when Kuroko leans up on his tiptoes.

Midorima’s lips are surprisingly soft when Kuroko kisses them, and he tastes kind of nice, like curry udon from the school cafeteria. 

There’s a clatter as Midorima drops his book on the ground, and his eyes glaze over in a way that worries Kuroko that Midorima has gone into shock, especially when his fingers start twitching by his side and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose.

“Are you all right?” Kuroko asks hesitantly.

There’s no response.

Maybe he should leave, Kuroko thinks, before Midorima comes back to his senses and starts screaming blue murder, because that would attract attention and cause a scene, but Midorima suddenly straightens up, and clamps his hands on Kuroko’s shoulders.

He’s definitely angry, and Kuroko is fairly certain he’s about to get punched (he can’t really blame Midorima, since he supposes he deserves it), but then something very strange indeed happens, and it’s not at all what he’s anticipating.

“This may have happened against my will,” Midorima begins, which is the undeniable truth, as Kuroko doesn’t recall gaining permission to kiss him, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I am still a man of honour. I never fail to take responsibility for my actions.” Glasses glinting, he tightens his grip, making Kuroko feel as if he’s being trapped inside a vice. “Therefore, Kuroko Tetsuya, it is my duty to marry you.”

Kuroko stares, unsure whether he’s heard Midorima correctly.

“Tonight,” Midorima continues, “I shall introduce you to my parents, and then the two of them will discuss arrangements with your family. You’ll be taking my name, of course, and our wedding will, quite rightly, be a traditional one.”

Either Aomine’s dare has completely backfired on Kuroko, or the joke is now on him. He can’t decide which. Whatever the case, he just knows Aomine is watching them from a safe distance and laughing his ass off.

“Midorima-kun,” Kuroko says, searching for an opportunity to use his misdirection skills and start running like hell, “I’m very sorry for kissing you. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

“It’s too late for that,” Midorima replies. “What’s done is done. The past is irrelevant. The only thing that matters now is the future. *Our* future,” he amends, “that we will inevitably share as husband and wife.”

It’s Kuroko’s turn to temporarily lose the ability to speak, but he manages to find it again after a couple of attempts. “This may sound like a condescending question, but are you actually being serious?”

“What are you talking about?” Midorima adjusts his glasses proudly. “I’m always serious.” And the sad thing is, he’s telling the truth. He has even less of a sense of humour than Kuroko. “Besides,” he adds, blushing, “that was my first kiss.”

Kuroko should probably point out that in the real world, most people don’t go straight from first kisses to marriage, but Midorima’s world is different from everyone else’s (and in Kuroko’s mind, it looks a bit like outer space, or a swirling mystical vortex type thing).

Bowing low, Kuroko is truly apologetic this time. “I really am sorry, Midorima-kun, but Aomine-kun is the one who started all this. He dared me to kiss you because he thought it would be amusing.”

“I see.” Rather than being angry, Midorima sounds pleased. “In that case, I must offer him my gratitude as your future husband for bringing us together. Where is he? Take me to him now, Kuroko.”

But Kuroko really doesn’t want to, so he plays dirty by pointing in the opposite direction. “Look, Midorima-kun, I think someone over there might have stolen your lucky item.”

Midorima’s head automatically swivels to the right, giving Kuroko the chance he’s been looking for to slip away unnoticed.


	4. Theme #5: First time

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #5: First time

~~

When Kuroko questions why they only ever have sex with him being taken from behind, Midorima slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose the way he always does whenever he’s trying to hide his embarrassment.

“So I don’t have to see your face, of course.”

But Kuroko knows it’s just the opposite, that it’s Midorima who doesn’t want his face being seen. Reaching up to remove Midorima’s glasses, he says, “There. Now you won’t be able to see me at all.”

Which is true, because Midorima’s eyesight is shockingly bad, and he proves it by groping blindly in Kuroko’s general direction, missing him completely and grasping at thin air.

“That’s not the point! Now, give those back before I –”

Kuroko interrupts him with a kiss, placing Midorima’s glasses to one side (taking care not to leave them where they could get damaged or broken, as that would seriously piss Midorima off, and then Kuroko would have to pay for repairs) and reclining onto his back, pulling Midorima down on top of him. 

Apart from never doing it in any position other than Midorima’s favourite, Kuroko has nothing to complain about when it comes to what they do in bed. Midorima may be set in his ways, but he certainly knows how to please Kuroko. Just thinking about how Midorima likes to push him face down, keeping him pinned with a hand between his shoulder blades to deepen the angle of penetration, is enough to get Kuroko hot, but he wants to find out what it’s like to do something different, something even better.

Naturally, Midorima tries to resist, but he soon forgets about making any further protests when jerks under him, body moving on its own as he automatically thrusts between Kuroko’s thighs. Cursing over having been so easily manipulated (which is one of the things Kuroko likes best about him, because in spite of being so intelligent, Midorima can be kind of dumb sometimes), he takes his anger out on Kuroko in a punishing rhythm, forcing the breath out of his lungs with every slam of his hips. 

Kuroko has to remind himself to keep his eyes open, to keep them on Midorima’s face, watching the way his expression turns from fierce (and that’s a turn-on, in and of itself) to desperate, the closer he gets to orgasm, to blissful after he finally comes, where he’s utterly unguarded for a few seconds before returning to his senses with an ever present frown. 

So this is what Midorima looks like when he’s fucking him, Kuroko thinks, and he wants to see it again, but then Midorima’s hand seeks out his cock, and his mind goes temporarily blank.

He at least has the presence of mind to fumble for Midorima’s glasses afterwards and slide them onto his face so that he isn’t squinting anymore, and it’s almost cute the way he blinks to bring the world back into focus.

“You,” Midorima says, “are the most... the worst... an absolute...”

He’s too annoyed to construct a proper sentence, so Kuroko shuts him up with another kiss before he can start laughing and irritate Midorima any further.


	5. Theme #9: Smut

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #9: Smut

~~

“Just to clarify the matter,” Midorima states, “I have absolutely no intention of reciprocating.”

“That’s very selfish of you,” Kuroko tells him, “but I don’t mind.”

And it’s the truth. Midorima is hardly forcing him to suck his cock. Kuroko does it because he wants to. It’s not like he expects Midorima to do the same for him, although he certainly wouldn’t complain if he did.

Midorima refuses to look at him, but that’s okay, too. He’s simply being his usual repressed self. It’s still progress, however, when Kuroko remembers how long it’s taken to get Midorima to the point where they can indulge in sexual activity without him trying to make excuses by blaming his horoscope and run away. He actually enjoys it when Kuroko gives him blowjobs, but he does his best not to let it show, and he would never in a million years admit to it. He’d probably die of a nosebleed first.

Even now, when Kuroko runs his tongue along the underside of Midorima’s cock, he remains perfectly silent, arms crossed over his chest, expression stern as ever, but Kuroko notices the subtle way in which he tightens his lips, and then, as Kuroko kisses the tip, the way his face begins to flush. Soon, his breathing will start to turn shallow, but they haven’t reached that stage yet, so Kuroko takes him into his mouth, as much as he can manage, one hand curled around the base of Midorima’s cock, the other teasing his balls.

Slowly, Midorima’s restraint crumbles, until he gives in altogether and arches his hips, pushing himself deeper, and that’s more selfish still of him, not to mention inconsiderate, but Kuroko is becoming something of an expert at this, knows just how much more it will take before Midorima is unable to hold back his noises any longer, before he gives voice to grudging moans and stuttering sighs.

Even without Midorima’s hand pressed to the back of his head, holding him in place, Kuroko knows he’s about to come, can tell by the way his hips jolt, and then Midorima releases himself in a flood of warmth against the back of his throat, which Kuroko swallows down in satisfaction.

Although he can be selfish, Midorima doesn’t like being in debt to anyone, so he jerks Kuroko off afterwards, quick and rough, and the friction of his taped fingers on Kuroko’s cock so good it verges on painful.

There’s no cuddling that follows, no sweet nothings whispered in each other’s ear, because Kuroko is too practical and Midorima is as prickly as a cactus, but he at least lets Kuroko rest his head on his shoulder, and if Kuroko drools a little when he falls asleep, Midorima doesn’t comment on it.


	6. Theme #10: UST

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #10: UST

~~

Midorima’s dreams have begun to take a disturbing turn as of late. They’re not nightmares as such, but they’re almost as bad, and they always feature him doing... *things* to Kuroko.

It’s been happening ever since he saw Kuroko in the locker room, which is strange considering he never usually takes notice of anyone else when they’re changing, but Midorima remembers glancing in Kuroko’s direction (by accident of course, because he’s not a shameless pervert like Kise who doesn’t even bother being subtle when he’s checking other people out) and finding his throat going suddenly tight at the sight of Kuroko’s bare skin, flushed and glistening with sweat.

It’s most unsettling for Midorima when the first thing that springs into his head afterwards is how much he’d like to lick Kuroko’s sweat, which is disgusting, because he’s sure it would taste terrible, so he tells himself there’s nothing appealing at all about perspiration, but for that brief moment, Kuroko just looks so good, so tempting, that Midorima has to wonder if he’s gone insane, or if Aomine has slipped an aphrodisiac into his water to make him think such uncharacteristically lecherous thoughts.

They refuse to leave Midorima alone, however, and as the afternoon goes on, they actually grow worse. It gets to the point where he can’t bring himself to look at Kuroko anymore for fear that he might do or say something he’ll regret.

But even if Midorima can restrain himself while he’s awake, it’s impossible during his dreams when his mind is showing him inappropriate, but highly erotic, images of Kuroko, and Midorima feels like he’s lost a part of himself that he’ll never get back the next morning when he opens his eyes to find his pyjama pants sticky with his own bodily fluids.

As the days go by, Midorima fights his subconscious as long as he can, but in the end, he forces himself to go without sleep altogether, just to prevent the nightly humiliation from repeating itself.

Nobody mentions the dark circles under his eyes, and it’s only when he fails to make one of his three point shots during practise that the others finally pay him proper attention.

Kise is the first to voice his concern. “Are you okay, Midorimacchi?” 

“Idiot,” Aomine says, but he seems worried, too. “He’s probably having an off day. Right, Midorima?”

“Even monkeys fall from trees,” Murasakibara quips. 

As always, Kuroko appears randomly and out of the blue, scaring Midorima half to death when he places a hand tentatively on his forearm. “Is everything all right, Midorima-kun?”

“I’m fine!” Midorima says, but he’s being far too loud, the words echoing around the court in a way that makes him wince, and he pulls his arm back like it’s been burned. He grits his teeth, struggles against the subconscious desire, but his body is already beginning to react to Kuroko’s touch, to the fleeting brush of skin on skin contact.

He’s about to excuse himself and hide in the bathroom when Akashi speaks up, expression calm but calculating.

“I’d like to have a word with you, Shintarou,” he says, gesturing for Midorima to follow. “Alone,” he adds sternly, frowning at how Kise and Aomine are tenterhooks to find out what’s going on.

It’s probably for the best. Akashi is the only one with any common sense, so if Midorima is going to get advice, he knows he could do much worse. 

Waiting for Akashi to take a seat in the clubroom, Midorima remains standing, and he folds his hands together while he searches for a good place to commence his explanation.

“I’ve been having these...” Trailing off, Midorima attempts to find the best way in which to describe his... desires? Impulses? Urges? Dismissing them all, he finally comes up with, “These visions, if you will.”

“About Tetsuya?”

Midorima’s jaw drops, and his face feels far too hot. 

“My eyes see everything, Shintarou.”

It’s fortunate Akashi can’t see his dreams, or else Midorima would be finding himself severely injured right about now.

“Please rest assured,” he says quickly. “I would never do anything adverse to Kuroko.”

“I know,” Akashi says simply. “Because I trust you.”

Thank god somebody does, because Midorima isn’t sure he trusts himself anymore.

“It’s perfectly normal to feel attraction towards your team mates,” Akashi continues. “You’re hardly the first person in existence to lust after someone, be it subconsciously or otherwise.”

“It will stop,” Midorima says firmly. “I will make it stop.”

Maybe it’s just his imagination, but Akashi looks amused. “Well, as long as it doesn’t affect your performance on the court, I don’t particularly mind what you do.”

“It won’t,” Midorima promises.

And it’s the truth. He’s determined to overcome this unresolved sexual tension no matter what.


	7. Theme #8: Hurt/comfort

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #8: Hurt/comfort

~~

Drawing his fortune during their first shrine visit of the year takes longer than Kuroko initially anticipates, but that’s because of how Midorima still hasn’t reached inside the box yet, and until he does, Kuroko won’t be able to have his turn.

“What is he waiting for?” Kise wonders as Midorima’s hand continues to hover, eyes closed, expression focused and intense, like he’s attempting to receive a message from the heavens.

Aomine shrugs, already bored. “I dunno, a Newtype flash?”

Sighing, Akashi says, “There’s no point standing around here and getting in everyone’s way.”

“And I want to buy more cotton candy,” Murasakibara announces.

“Which is why,” Akashi continues, “we’ll meet up again later at the entrance. You don’t mind staying with Shintarou, do you, Tetsuya?”

It’s not as if Kuroko has much of a choice, because he can’t go anywhere until Midorima is finished, and because only an idiot (or a very brave person) would dare defy Akashi.

“I understand,” says Kuroko, glancing back at Midorima who doesn’t appear to have come any closer to reaching a decision. “Midorima-kun and I will see you–” he pauses, unable to provide a rough estimate of how much longer they’re going to be, so he finishes with “–sometime later.”

The two of them are left alone together as the rest of the group wander off, not that Midorima seems to notice or care. Partly out of curiosity, but mostly out of an effort to speed him up a bit, Kuroko clears his throat.

“Does drawing a fortune really require that much concentration?”

Opening his eyes, Midorima frowns in Kuroko’s direction. “What a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course it does.”

Kuroko doesn’t think it’s ridiculous. He considers the question to be very reasonable, but Midorima, as usual, refuses to agree with him. “Pardon my ignorance, but why, exactly, is this so important to you?”

“Because,” Midorima says grandly, like he’s about to let Kuroko into an impressive secret, “this one slip of paper will affect my luck for the rest of the year, therefore I must put in the same amount of work that I expect to get out of it.”

“I see,” says Kuroko, but he doesn’t really, because the entire point of drawing fortunes is that they’re chosen completely at random, and no amount of willpower or wishful thinking will change that. 

He supposes he should have know, though, that Midorima would make such a big deal out of something so trivial, what with always harping on about destiny and the stars, and although Kuroko may not understand it himself, he’s willing to be patient and allow Midorima to take a little while longer.

Finally, after he’s succeeded in preparing himself emotionally, or whatever it is that he’s actually doing, Midorima dips his fingers into the box, rummages around and pulls out a slip of paper. He inhales slowly, deeply, and then breathes out, squaring his shoulders. Even Kuroko can’t help feeling a tiny twinge of excitement as Midorima unfolds his fortune.

There’s no need for him to wonder how Midorima feels upon drawing a fortune that says BAD LUCK, because it’s written all over his face. He looks disgusted as he points a taped up index finger at the source of his betrayal. “This box is rigged.”

“Is that even possible?” Kuroko says.

“Then how do you explain the end result?” Midorima crumples the paper in resentment. “I expected to be given a more appropriate fortune. Clearly the shrine employees are out to sabotage me.”

He’s getting far too upset about all this, not to mention paranoid, and Kuroko wonders why he’s suddenly chosen to fight fate instead of doing what he always does by going along with it.

“Don’t worry, Midorima-kun. It’s merely a matter of restoring the cosmic balance.” Kuroko holds a palm out, and Midorima hands over his fortune. Kuroko smoothes it out carefully. “I just so happen to know a technique that will make the bad luck go away.”

“Really?” 

“All you have to do is tie it in your mouth.”

“No,” says Midorima, his hopeful expression turning to one of annoyance, “you’re completely mistaken. You’re supposed to tie it to a *tree*.”

But he’s too late, because Kuroko has already popped the fortune into his mouth. Midorima watches in astonishment, jaw slack, as he successfully ties the slip of paper with his tongue, and he makes a noise like a cat with a fur ball stuck in its throat as his face goes an alarming shade of red.

“And then,” Kuroko continues, the words muffled but still comprehensible, “you return the fortune to the person who originally drew it.”

Standing on his tiptoes, he transfers the fortune from his mouth to Midorima’s via a kiss, leaving Midorima looking like he’s just escaped a near death experience. 

It takes him almost a full minute before he can speak (Kuroko keeps count), and when he does manage to find his voice at last, he can’t hide the stutter it contains. “Who on earth taught you that?!”

“It was Momoi-san,” says Kuroko. “Should she not have done so?”

Still blushing, Midorima mutters out something unintelligible, mixed with “vulgar” and “vixen,” when his cell phone buzzes with an incoming text message. Using it as a convenient excuse to turn his back on Kuroko, he opens it, and he pales upon discovering it’s from Akashi.

It’s short and to the point, which is typical of Akashi’s texts, but more than that, it makes Midorima genuinely afraid for existence.

My eyes see everything, Shintarou, the message says, and he snaps his phone shut hurriedly, wondering where Akashi could be spying on them from (quite possibly from the roof of the shrine through a pair of binoculars).

“Hurry up and draw your fortune,” he tells Kuroko. “We’ve just been summoned.”

“Ah.” Kuroko nods in understanding.

“And don’t,” Midorima concludes, furtively, “breathe a word of this to anyone.”


	8. Theme #3: Crack

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #3: Crack

~~

There’s no way Midorima can ignore Kuroko when he’s crouched in the doorway of a shop, hair, clothes and skin all soaking wet from the rain that’s been pouring down since lunchtime. 

“Where’s your umbrella?” Midorima asks.

“I didn’t bring one,” Kuroko replies. “I thought I’d wait here a while for the rain to stop, but that was almost twenty minutes ago.”

It’s starting to get dark. The temperature is also beginning to drop. Kuroko will catch a cold at this rate, so Midorima tells himself that he’s doing this for the sake of the team as a whole, not because he’s worried for his health or anything, because it won’t do for them to be missing a member due to sickness.

And so, he curls his fingers around Kuroko’s elbow, hauling him to his feet and tilting his umbrella to shelter the both of them.

“I’m taking you home with me before you catch your death. Just stay quiet and don’t fall behind.”

Kuroko smiles slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s forced to walk faster than usual to keep pace with Midorima’s long strides, but he never complains (although it does leave him out of breath, Midorima notes irritably, after just a little while, which shows that his stamina still needs work).

The first thing he does, once they’re safely indoors and out of the rain, is throw a towel at Kuroko while he goes off to run a bath. When he returns, Kuroko’s hair is fluffed up from having been rubbed dry, and it makes Midorima want to attack him with a comb to straighten it out, but there are more important matters for him to be taking care of right now, so he shepherd Kuroko into the bathroom, tells him to get warmed up and shuts the door behind him.

There’s a problem, however, in that all Kuroko has with him is his uniform, which is completely drenched, so he doesn’t have anything else to change into while Midorima hangs it up to dry. Kuroko will simply have to make do with what Midorima has now, so he leaves some clean pants and a tee shirt, along with a fresh pair of underwear that he’s only just taken out of the packet (Midorima has always prided himself on being hygiene conscious), outside the bathroom door.

But when Kuroko emerges into the dining room, Midorima nearly chokes on the coffee he’s prepared when he sees that all he’s wearing is the tee shirt, which is huge on him – as Midorima expects, given the difference in size between them – and the pants are suspiciously absent.

“They were too big for me,” Kuroko explains, gesturing at his bare legs, “and they kept falling down, so I decided to do without them. Same for the underwear.” 

Midorima makes a garbled sound when Kuroko starts to lift up the tee shirt, as if to show him proof, and he hurriedly reaches across the table to yank it back in place, shielding his eyes. “You should have said something!” he snaps. “I could have brought you a belt!”

“Oh.” Kuroko looks surprised. “I suppose there was that option.”

There’s a vein throbbing in Midorima’s temple, and it signals the start of an oncoming headache. “Just sit still and drink your coffee.”

Kuroko kneels at the table, tucking his legs underneath his body and wrapping his fingers around the mug Midorima has placed in front of him with a grateful sigh. While he takes a sip, Midorima subtly sends Kise a text message. 

_Kuroko is at my house and refuses to wear clothing. Your advice would be appreciated._

It takes less than three seconds for his cell phone to buzz with a response.

 _What._

And then another.

_What?_

And then one more.

_WHAT???_

And that’s when Midorima realises that he’s made a mistake, that he should have gone to someone else instead, someone who isn’t obsessed with getting into Kuroko’s pants (not that he’s wearing any at the moment, which is precisely the problem), but when Midorima thinks about it, he could apply that description to pretty much everyone in the basketball club, Momoi included, so it’s probably going to be the same no matter who he turns to.

It’s definitely a mistake when his cell phone buzzes again, because Kise can never keep his mouth shut about anything, and sure enough, it’s a message from Aomine this time. 

_KISE SAYS YOU AND TETSU ARE NAKED TOGETHER, WTF._

Scowling, Midorima quickly sends a response.

_No, we are most certainly not. Kise is an idiot and not to be trusted. Don’t believe his lies._

But there’s another message waiting for him shortly after he’s hit the reply button, and it’s from Murasakibara.

_Mine-chin says you’re doing dirty things to Kuro-chin without Aka-chin’s permission. You’d better say goodbye to everyone you love, because they probably won’t be alive this time tomorrow, lol._

Left eyebrow twitching, Midorima is halfway through typing his answer when he gets yet another message, again from Kise.

_PICS OR ELSE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN._

Which is shortly followed by a message from Aomine.

_ARE YOU TAKING PERVY PICTURES OF TETSU? SHARE THEM WITH ME AND I’LL ONLY BREAK THREE OF YOUR FINGERS._

And then another one from Kise.

_WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING PICS NOW PLS._

And another.

_MIDORIMACCHI HURRY UP AND SEND ME THOSE PICTURES DAMN IT._

Just when Midorima is about to switch his phone off and toss it aside, he gets a new message, and he’s almost scared to open it when he sees that Akashi is the sender.

_Tetsuya belongs to me, Shintarou, and I forbid you from doing anything untoward. However, I will permit the use of photography. You may look, but you are not allowed to touch._

On the one hand, Kuroko will probably do something violent and painful to him if he takes any pictures in his current state, Midorima thinks, but on the other, Akashi will surely do things that are even more violent and painful to him if he refuses to follow their captain’s absolute orders, so Midorima is damned if does, and damned if he doesn’t.

While he’s busy trying to decide what to do, Kuroko magically appears out of nowhere behind his shoulder, scaring him half to death as he peers down at his cell phone curiously, bare thigh warm against Midorima’s forearm.

“You’ve been getting a lot of text messages,” he comments. “I take it Kise-kun wants a photo of me?”

“And Aomine,” says Midorima. “And Akashi. I’m not sure about Murasakibara, though.”

“Oh.” Kuroko straightens up. “Shall we make it a sexy one?”

Midorima makes a choking noise. “I beg your pardon?”

“A sexy picture,” Kuroko repeats, calm as ever. “Just to see what happens.”

Midorima gawks. “You’re alright with that?” 

Kuroko shrugs. “It might be funny.”

His sense of humour is questionable at best, but at least he isn’t giving Midorima an Ignite Pass to the gut, so Midorima lets him pose the way he wants, the oversized tee shirt exposing his left shoulder and putting on a coy expression for the camera. Ignoring the way his hands are shaking, Midorima takes a picture, trying to ignore the way Kuroko sits so close to him afterwards as they wait for a response.

Kise replies first, which really isn’t surprising.

 _ASDFGHJKL,_ his text reads.

“What language is that?” Midorima wonders.

“One that’s unique only to Kise-kun,” says Kuroko, sagely.

Aomine is next.

_LIFT HIS SHIRT HIGHER SO I CAN SEE HIS ****._

Murasakibara is third.

_Put some whipped cream on Kuro-chin’s nipples, Mido-chin, I bet it’d be really tasty._

Kuroko raises an eyebrow. “Whipped cream?”

“I don’t have any,” Midorima says quickly, just in case Kuroko starts getting ideas.

And finally, Akashi.

_Record a video next, Shintarou, and make sure it’s in high definition._

For some reason, Kuroko smiles. Midorima doesn’t like it. “This is actually kind of enjoyable.”

“Which part?” Midorima chokes.

But Kuroko isn’t listening. “What should we do next?”

“Nothing!” Midorima shouts as Kuroko wanders into the kitchen to see what he can use as a prop. “So get dressed and go home!”


	9. Theme #4: Genderswitch

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #4: Genderswitch

~~

There’s a good reason why Midorima is even more snappish and short-tempered than usual when she turns up for practise at the basketball club, and it’s not from being surrounded by idiots, although being exposed to such foolishness on an every day basis certainly doesn’t help her feel any better.

Aomine, who is never usually this perceptive, takes less than five seconds to offer a diagnosis. “It’s PMS,” she says knowingly.

“It’s PMS,” Murasakibara agrees, or at least that’s what Midorima assumes she’s saying (it’s difficult to tell around the Pringles she’s got stuffed in her mouth to make it look like she has a duck’s beak).

“Definitely PMS,” Kise chimes in, because there’s no way she’ll miss out on an opportunity to make Midorima suffer (and also because it’s a change from her being the one who gets ganged up on).

It’s only due to Midorima trying to decide which of them will be her target when she shuts them up with a basketball to the face that she doesn’t respond right away, but before they can continue getting a laugh at her expense, she finds an ally in the most unexpected place.

“You shouldn’t joke about someone who is obviously in pain,” Kuroko says.

She catches them all by surprise, but Aomine manages to recover before the others.

“How come you’re taking Midorima’s side?”

“Because,” Kuroko replies, “it also happens to be my time of the month.”

“Er,” says Aomine, unsure how to respond to what she’s just heard.

Kise, however, has no such difficulty. “You’re so lucky, Midorimacchi.”

“What.” Midorima tries and fails to figure out whether Kise is being sincere or sarcastic.

“Your ovulation cycles have synchronised,” Kise explains. “That’s what happens when two women spend a lot of time together, their bodies respond to each other’s pheromones. It’s proof of how in tune you are with Kurokocchi.”

“What,” says Midorima, again, because it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard, even by Kise’s standards.

But Kise is sulking and looking left out, but what’s scarier still is that she’s staring at Midorima like she truly does envy her. “I’m jealous. It’s more special when you ovulate with a person who’s important to you.”

Only Kise could see menstruation as something romantic.

“You know what this means, Kurokocchi?” she continues, holding out her arms in encouragement. “We need more physical intimacy to deepen our bond. Feel free to leap into my welcoming bosom.”

“My sincerest apologies, Kise-san,” says Kuroko, somehow managing to sound polite and respectful while simultaneously wearing an undisguised expression of extreme unwillingness, “but I’m afraid I must decline your offer.”

Kise’s lower lip quivers, eyes watering – no doubt with crocodile tears – but before she can start wailing about how coldly Kuroko is behaving towards her, Aomine interrupts.

“In that case, me and Tetsu should be the ones who are in synch. We’re the closest, after all.”

“I’m close to Kuro-chin too,” Murasakibara claims, draping herself over Kuroko like a blanket. “Look how attached we are.”

“I didn’t mean literally,” Aomine says, rolling her eyes while Kise pouts resentfully at Murasakibara’s back.

“Don’t think you’ll be getting excused just because you’re on your periods,” a new voice breaks in, and they turn around to find Akashi right behind them. “I don’t care if you’re bleeding through your vagina or through a hole in your head, you’re going to keep practising until I’m satisfied with the results you show me.”

Everyone else cringes under Akashi’s glare, but Kise fails to read the mood completely, and her smile is as bright and as ever when she says, “I guess there’s no need to wonder what you’d be like on your period, Akashicchi, since you’re always acting like you have a case of permanent PMS.”

Aomine’s jaw drops at Kise’s utter lack of tact, which is almost laughable considering she’s hardly Miss Manners herself, but even she knows better than to piss Akashi off, purposely or otherwise.

Akashi just smiles, but her expression is a dangerous one, like she’d enjoy nothing more than doing creatively painful things to Kise until she’s crawling at her feet and begging for mercy. “In that case,” she says, “you’d obviously prefer a more strenuous training menu, so you’d better come with me where I can put you through your paces.”

Finally, Kise seems to realise what she’s got herself into, and she glances helplessly at the others as Akashi drags her away, but nobody is brave or stupid enough to go and save her. 

“Okay,” Aomine says, forcing herself to sound enthusiastic, although she really isn’t fooling anyone. “Time to practise, Murasakibara!”

“Eh?” Murasakibara shakes her Pringles can. “I’m not done eating these yet.”

“Do you want to end up like Kise?” 

Murasakibara pales, the mere thought of being made to train until she passes out enough to spur her into action, and she follows Aomine to the other end of the court, leaving Midorima alone with Kuroko.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” asks Kuroko.

Midorima huffs, and adjusts her glasses. “Save your concern for yourself. I don’t need any of it.”

“But if you require assistance, then please let me know.”

It’s ridiculous, coming from the person who doesn’t even need Akashi’s hell training to collapse unconscious from the court due to her lack of stamina, and besides, Midorima would never ask for anyone’s help, no matter how much pain she happens to be in.

Kuroko smiles, and Midorima finds it mostly annoying, but also partly intriguing. “It’s kind of a nice idea, though, don’t you think? Being so in tune with another person.”

“We’re supposed to be playing basketball,” Midorima reminds her wryly, “not doing synchronised swimming.”

But she supposes, if she really had to choose, that there are worse people to be matched with.


	10. Theme #2: AU

Written for the microfic meme  
Theme #2: AU

~~

It’s difficult for Midorima to believe sometimes, but once in a while Takao is actually capable of making useful suggestions. Since he’s also about the only person who bothers showing concern for Midorima’s well being, which Midorima tends to dismiss as mere nosiness, he gives him a look that’s equal parts pity and frustration.

“I’m serious, Shin-chan, when was the last time you took a vacation? It’s never, that’s when, because you’re the kind of guy who drags himself to work even when he’s sick and should really be at home instead of spreading his germs around the office. Which, by the way, usually get passed onto me, so thanks a lot for all those colds I’ve been infected with.”

Midorima sighs, because Takao obviously isn’t going to shut up until he pays attention. “Is there any point to this conversation?”

“Yeah,” says Takao, wagging his index finger like he’s lecturing a disobedient kindergarten student, “you need a break, damn it, before you start growing roots at your desk and find yourself physically attached to it someday.”

“I am not a plant, Takao.”

“No, you’re a workaholic. Would it kill you to just take one day off?”

Midorima tries to explain how much his presence is needed, and that Takao should be in admiration of his work ethic instead of criticising it, but Takao isn’t listening to him. 

“Besides,” he continues, “I’ve seen the way you keep rubbing your shoulders lately. That’s because you spend at least twelve hours out of every twenty-four hunched in front of a computer. It’s not good for your posture, you know?”

“Takao,” says Midorima, running out of patience, “you’re being a nag. Now, leave me alone so I can get on with what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“I’m being considerate,” Takao argues, “so take my advice before you wake up one morning and realise that life has completely passed you by while you’ve been stuck in this office. And besides,” he adds, grinning loftily, “I’ve already made you an appointment.”

That immediately puts Midorima on the alert. “If you’re thinking about sending me to some den of immorality–”

“I’m not!” Takao interrupts, holding up his hands defensively. “Honest! It’s not a brothel, so stop glaring at me like that. Even you’ve heard of the Aida Sports Centre, right?”

Midorima is aware of its reputation, at least, but he’s still far from happy with Takao for taking such liberties, and since Takao has taken care of all the arrangements in his place, both with the centre itself and with their boss, Midorima has no choice but to attend.

It’s been a very long time since Midorima last visited any kind of leisure facility, but the one he turns up at the next day is large and well established. If he wasn’t so busy reminding himself how much work he could be getting done if he weren’t here, he might be impressed.

Midorima has no idea why Takao has signed him up for a session with a professional masseur, of all things, but he follows the receptionist anyway when she leads him through to one of the therapy rooms, albeit with a scowl on his face, and convincing himself that it’s going to be a complete waste of time.

The room, when he arrives, is warm and dimly lit, and even with his glasses on, it takes Midorima’s eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of light. There’s no one else around, which irritates Midorima all the more, because he absolutely loathes tardiness.

Checking his watch to make sure he’s on time, he taps his foot impatiently on the floor, wondering if he ought to just turn around and leave, but then a soft voice greets him, seemingly from out of nowhere.

“Good morning.”

Midorima accidentally lets out a gasp, and then he clears his throat in embarrassment once he’s recovered from the surprise. “I take it you’re the masseur?”

He receives a nod of confirmation. “My name is Kuroko Tetsuya. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Midorima Shintarou. Nice to meet you.” It’s not really, but Midorima offers his right hand anyway for the sake of courtesy, and he’s offended when Kuroko refuses to shake it.

“Well, then.” Kuroko gestures to the table in the middle of the room. “Shall we begin?”

Midorima tries not to let his awkwardness show as he toes off his shoes, stripping out of his suit until he’s wearing only his boxer shorts and lying face down on the table, as Kuroko instructs. It’s soft and comfortable, but Midorima can’t bring himself to relax. 

He flinches automatically when Kuroko lightly runs his palms over his body, pausing at Midorima’s shoulders and neck.

“You’re most tense here,” he notes. “I bet you get a lot of headaches, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” says Midorima, but it’s the truth. In any case, he’s used to them. He can’t remember a time in his working life without migraines and other stress related pain.

More importantly, Kuroko’s hands only serve to increase his tension, because Midorima isn’t used to being touched by anyone, especially not total strangers. 

“Please don’t be so uptight,” says Kuroko, removing his hands and reaching for a bottle of oil. It releases a pleasant scent when he opens it, which Midorima assumes is probably something to do with aromatherapy. “The whole purpose of this exercise is to help you become more relaxed.”

“I know,” Midorima snaps. “I’m not stupid. I’ve just never had a massage before, that’s all.”

“I see.” Kuroko sounds amused. “In that case, I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Midorima rests his chin on his folded arms. He’s yet to stop being sceptical, but he takes in a deep breath when Kuroko asks him to, releasing it slowly and trying to loosen his muscles. 

He jumps, startled, when Kuroko begins at his feet, even though he’s expecting the touch, and he frowns into the gloom, unimpressed, as Kuroko slowly moves to his ankles, his calves and then the backs of his thighs. 

Midorima hasn’t begun to feel relaxed yet, and he doubts he ever will, but he can at least admit to himself that Kuroko is thorough, and obviously skilled at his job. Midorima likes competent people. There aren’t nearly enough of them in the world, never mind his company.

Kuroko starts applying more pressure once he gets to the small of Midorima’s back, and it’s painful at first as he works on easing the strain out of his body, but then it gets better. It actually even feels good when Kuroko kneads his shoulders, and although Midorima doesn’t notice it himself, he gradually relaxes, bit by bit, until he’s no longer thinking about anything at all, until he’s simply enjoying the experience. 

Massaging his way from Midorima’s shoulder down his left arm, Kuroko shows once again how much attention he pays to detail, rubbing his thumb first into Midorima’s palm, and then each individual finger. He repeats the process for Midorima’s right arm before returning to Midorima’s neck, the main source of his tension.

It’s the part of Midorima’s body where he spends the most time, carefully and methodically smoothing out the stiffness. His fingertips move delicately over Midorima’s temples, rubbing in tiny circles until Midorima’s eyelids are drooping. It’s a struggle for him to stay conscious, especially when Kuroko’s fingers massage his scalp, causing enjoyable tingling sensations. 

Midorima’s body feels lighter than he can ever remember, and it’s strange, almost like he’s about to melt into the table. There’s no more pain, no more stress, only pleasure and relief. 

He doesn’t realise that he’s fallen asleep until he opens his eyes again, and it takes him a little while to become fully alert. Then he’s mortified, and he finds himself wondering how long he’s been out.

“My apologies,” Midorima mutters, sitting up. “I didn’t mean to lose consciousness.”

“That’s alright,” Kuroko says calmly. “It proves how beneficial this has been for you.”

He ought to thank him, Midorima tells himself, and he’s about to do just that, however grudgingly, when Kuroko turns up the light. It enables Midorima to get a better look at his face, and that’s when he realises it at last.

Kuroko is completely blind.

No wonder he never bothered shaking Midorima’s hand earlier. He couldn’t even see it.

It leaves Midorima incredibly awkward all of a sudden, but he can’t deny that he’s curious as he watches Kuroko tidying the room, moving with an ease and confidence that suggest a familiarity with his surroundings.

“You don’t use a cane,” Midorima blurts out.

“And you’re not very tactful,” Kuroko replies.

Midorima is aware that he’s said something insensitive, so he apologises for it. “I’m sorry for being so rude.”

“I don’t mind.” Kuroko offers him a slight smile. “Actually, I prefer it when people are straightforward. I find bluntness easier to deal with than pity.” 

Midorima can’t really blame Kuroko, and although it’s not like him to pry, he can’t help asking, “How long?”

“Since high school. I had to change my career choice completely, as a result. It’s an old senpai of mine that runs this sports centre. She and her father helped train me up once I graduated, and I’ve been working for them ever since.”

“You’re good at what you do.” 

Midorima isn’t used to giving out compliments, which is why it sounds so awkward. He also thinks he can understand what it must be like for Kuroko, at least a little, because his eyesight is shocking. He can hardly see without his glasses, but even then, he can still make out things, even though they’re only indistinct blurs. 

He has no idea what it’s like to live in a world of total darkness.

It’s vaguely unsettling when Kuroko turns to look at him, except it’s more like he’s looking through Midorima, because he’s simply turning his gaze to where he’s guessing he might be, but it also makes something clench inside his gut, like he recognises something of himself inside Kuroko, like he’s being drawn to him in some way.

“This is terribly unprofessional,” says Kuroko, “but could I touch your face?”

Midorima doesn’t know why those words make him feel so nervous, but he nods, and then remembers Kuroko can’t see it. “Okay.”

Kuroko steps forward until he’s standing in front of Midorima, reaching out tentatively. His fingers brush Midorima’s throat, apparently by accident, having misjudged his height. “You’re taller than I thought.”

“You’re just short,” Midorima huffs. 

He holds still when Kuroko lifts his hand higher, tracing Midorima’s face with his fingertips, his jaw, his eyebrows. It’s an oddly intimate experience, and Kuroko smiles when he brushes a thumb over Midorima’s cheekbones.

“You’re blushing.”

“No I’m not,” Midorima lies, but he knows Kuroko can feel it through the warmth of his skin. He’s going to blame his insanity on Takao, because there’s no other reason Midorima can find to explain the uncharacteristic behaviour he’s displaying when, once again, he speaks without thinking. “Would you like to go out with me? On a date, I mean. I’m free for the rest of today, if you’re interested.”

And then he feels as if he’s dying inside a little, because it’s probably the most humiliating thing he’s said yet, but Kuroko, mercifully, doesn’t reject him.

“If you don’t mind waiting until I finish work, I’d be glad to accompany you for something to eat.”

Which leaves Midorima at a loss of how to proceed next, so he swallows his pride afterwards and sends Takao a text message.

_What do people do when they’re on a date?_

His cell phone is promptly bombarded with five responses in rapid succession, each of them containing an irksome number of OMGs and LOLs, but since Midorima has nobody else to turn to for advice, he’s simply going to have to tolerate it.


End file.
